


Of Bros, Metaness and Tea

by igraniecain



Category: Original Work
Genre: Actually PLATONic, Bros Will Be Bros, Brotastic Bants, Continuity What Continuity, Domesticity, For Fuckssake There Are So Many Meta Levels, Fuck grammar, General Life Crisis, Ginger Bro, Intenity, Intimate Knowledge Of Cat Language appreciated, Intimate Knowledge of Cat Language Required, It's Bro Not Sis, Loads Of Random Baking, Meow., Meta, Much Cinnamonness, Multiple Personalities, No Actual Coffee Involved, PIECON, Questionable Puns, Seriously This Might Be Too Meta For You, So God Dam Intense, Special Pet, Strong Language, Team Tea, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Timeline What Timeline, Weorderin, Who Cares About Continuity, coffeshop au, meow?, what are tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igraniecain/pseuds/igraniecain
Summary: It’s not that Laura wasn't into relationships. It’s just that Laura wasn’t a relationship kind of girl.3487 Words. (3519 according to Word. What's that about?)Coffeeshop Verse.Incomplete since 2016.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A series of connected one-shots. Don’t try to find a chronological timeline. Time is a meaningless concept of society we don’t believe in. Death is inevitable. (This is misleading, I should stop.)
> 
> A present for E, in honour of our 1 year branniversary
> 
>  
> 
> (I literally finished this, this morning. #procrastintion)

Prologue

The Author sits down at her desk and thinks of a coffee shop.

 

Of Bromances, Metaness An Tea

On a sunny Wednesday in October Laura entered the Coffee Shop for the first time. Despite the approaching winter she wore a red summer dress that seemed to shout at each passer-by “I don’t care what you think about my outfit. But I look hella fine don’t I?”. She had only just moved into town and was still in search of an establishment with a good selection of tea blends. There was a short line at the counter and she gazed at the Menu while waiting. The range of tea blends was excellent. When there were only two people before her in line she noticed the ginger Barista. She was tall and had short curly hair that seemed to defy both reason and gravity. She wore an apron over a HELLA FLUFFY looking jumper that Laura would very much like to cuddle with. But WAIT! NO! She didn’t know that person. She could be a serial killer for all she knew. Laura was new in town and had vowed to try and do things differently here. She had even made a list. (She liked lists. What she liked even better was crossing things off her lists.)

_-Act normal_

_-Make friends_

_-Keep friends_

_-Find hobbies_

_~~-Find suitable Cafè with good teas~~ _

   So no weird ‘Hey, your jumper looks fluffy can I touch it?’ from her. No!

   “What can I get you, dear?” The Barista asked.

   But Laura was still in thought about potential serial killers in fluffy jumpers.

   “Excuse me?” The Barista addressed her again.

   Oh God, had the cute barista just asked her something? Shit. Say something normal.

   “Ehmm…you don’t happentobeaserialkiller? Yourjumperlookswellfluffy.”

   Yeah, that will do it. Scratch the whole list, she was going to go and live in a cave, become a hermit? Oh God yes, become a hermit.

   But …

   The ginger Barista with the green eyes and the dazzling smile … well … smiled at her.

   “Heh…I’m not a serial killer, I can assure you of that. And yes … my jumper IS fluffy.” She smirked again. “So, back to _my_ question. What can I do you for?”

   “A cuppa tea. Darli- Dar _jee_ ling.” Laura said, shaken a bit. Shit, was she blushing? Did she _blush_ now? What the fuck was wrong with her?

   “Coming right up. Who should I make it out to?”

   “Laura.”

   “I’m sure to remember that.” Another smile.

   Laura definitely blushed a bit after that. Shit, there was a pattern forming here. She really wasn’t used to people reacting to her in a positive manner. She should get out more.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next week Laura went to the café again. On Wednesday. Which had NOTHING at ALL to do with the barista’s schedule. *cough* Lie. *cough*. So she stood in front of the pie counter, just minding her business, when **that** girl approached her, turned to her and started talking. It took Laura quite a while to realise it was herself that this girl was offering her life story to. Apparently, she had just moved here to take up her studies, was a Taurus and enjoyed long cuddle sessions with her bodybuilder boyfriend, Mike, who had just started his own business. Laura stared first at her, then, taking a step back, at the rest of the room, searching franticly for a way out. How dare this girl talk to her? Did she not know she was? Did she not see the air of aloof and “I DON’T CARE. DO NOT COME NEAR ME:” around her? Dear gods, was it still there? Or did she seem approachable and amicable all of the sudden…

   Laura was a few moments short of a full blown life crisis when she was saved by a ginger in apron-armour. The barista addressed the girl, shooting Laura a look that seemed to say “Run. Leave me. Save yourself.”: “Nina, how are you today? How is Mike? Would you like a piece of our new pumpkin pie? I baked it myself. Come over here and I’ll snatch you a piece.”

   The girl, Nina smiled at Laura then left her side to receive the promised piece of pie. Laura sighed, relieved the danger of forced socialising was over. She stayed at the pie counter, hoping Ina would not, like a ghost, come back to haunt her. After a while, the barista made her way back around to the pies as well. “Thank you. I don’t think I could have stood even a second more of that.” Laura said to her, when she knew Nina would not be able to hear them.

   “That’s exactly what it looked like. You don’t like forced socialising much either, I take it?”

   “Precisely. Eh, that’s the exact wording I used in my head.” Laura said and then cringed, “Oh dear, not exactly something a normal person would say here, right? They would just smile, thank you and explain that they had a bad day, and are therefore not in the mood for conversation, which is ridiculous because while they were explaining that they would actually be in a conversation, which would defeat the notion of not wanting a conversation because of the before mentioned bad day they’ve had. Oh, gods in the heavens, I’m rambling and you probably have a shitton to do, being a barista and all. I’m just gonna shut up now.” Laura finished, motioned with her arms and made to leave.

   “Wait.” The barista called.

   Laura turned back around.

   “You are a right special pet, you know that right?” The barista went on.

   “Yeah.” Laura answered, looking at her shoes. It were the nice new leather ones.

   “Oh, oh, that’s alright. I actually … well … I wanted to ask if you, you know … would like to have a coffee with me?”

   “I don’t drink coffee.”

   “Oh, right.” The barista actually looked a little put down at that.

   “I drink tea.”

   The smile was back on the barista’s lips. “Of course you do. I’m off in 5 minutes, do you mind waiting?”

   “Not at all.”

   “My name is Eva, by the way.” She stretched out her hand.

   “Laura.”

   “I know.”

   They shook hands. Laura was grateful for this, she didn’t fancy the hugs people give you just out of curtsy when they don’t really know you. A hug has to be meant. Five seconds at least. No weird patting on the back! Unless you are a hockey bro … anything goes when you’re a hockey bro.

   Laura got herself a cup of tea and a pumpkin pie (tis the season) and sat down across the room in a red velvet armchair that had already become her favourite spot in the cafè. She sipped her tea and traded smiles and glances with Eva, who was still standing behind the counter, working.

   During one of those glances, suddenly and without apparent explanation Laura heard a voice in her head. While that might not have been the first time this had happened to her, it was certainly the first time it was someone else’s voice.

   “Meow?” the voice had inquired.

   “Meow.” Laura offered back after getting over her initial shock, almost spilling her tea, thinking it very, very hard indeed.

   A look of surprise washed over Eva’s face and she, in turn, almost spilled the coffee she was handing over right then. So it had really _been_ her.

   “This isn’t the normal course of action, is it?” Laura tried.

   “Who cares?” came the prompt answer.

   Laura huffed a laugh shaking her head, before an idea hit her.

   “Wanna play Telepathic Metaphysical I Spy?”

   This time Eva really did spill that coffee.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

(The next time they meet is actually not in the Coffee Shop. They see each other, lock eyes and simultaneously think: “It’s not the Coffee Shop. For the sake of this narrative we can’t exist outside of it.” and dematerialise.)

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What a surprise to meet _you_ here.” Laura remarked striding into the Coffee Shop, narrative hours after their meeting outside that didn’t really happen.

   “Some people work you know” Eva shot back smirking.

   “Tea?”

   “Sure. I don’t think anyone will still come in, it’s almost closing time.” Eva turned to get them teas and maybe she would take some of the leftover scones as well.

   “D’you have any scones? I’ve had a weird craving for them since this morning.” Laura informed her leaning over the counter, aiming to catch a glance at any possibly left over baked goods.

   “I had a scone for breakfast.” Eva tell her, walking over to where they usually store the goods that didn’t sell that day.

   “Well that explains that then.”

   “We should still have some here.” She opened the box expecting to find at least one scone to be still left. To her disappointment the box was empty. “Dammit. That sneaky beaut Johnson must have taken them all.” Seeing the disappointment on Laura’s face she decides this would not do. Her mind is set.

   “Let’s bake!”

   And … boy … did they bake.

   After 2 hours of flour fights, lost recipes and dangerous improvising, they had a tray of scones and two apple pies with maple syrup. After a long consideration they decided to just eat it the kitchen, so they sat down on the floor and munched on their self-baked goods.

   “Dude, pie.” Laura thought, testing their mental connection anew.

   “Pie is life.” Eva replied.

   “We have a pie connection now.” Laura stated.

   They seemed lost in thought for a while after that. Then finally they both spoke:

   “Piecon?”

   “Piecon.”

   And thus the mighty Piecon was born.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Author lets her face collide forcefully with the table top. “This is all so unconnected! Like _Bam_ they’re in the kitchen, _Bam_ it’s a new day and they talk about hockey, of all things … this is never going to be a coherently flowing story!” she exclaims, face still lying on the table while her arms gesticulate wildly.

   “Does it have to be?” asks The Ginger as she walks into the room. She places a cup of tea next to the Authors head (but just far enough away so she won’t spill it all over her laptop) and affectionately ruffles her black mop of hair. The Author huffs.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

On one of the rare days Laura was not rolled up on one of the sofas of the cafè, Eva was having a shite day altogether. Her boss had just more or less roasted her for suggesting to re-organise the supply cabinet by Latin expressions, Johnson was, once again, nowhere to be seen and on top of that she had realised only last night that one of her favourite new fictional characters was essentially a child. Which wasn’t a bad thing generally, it had simply surprised her. So her day was rapidly going to hell (‘at least it’s warm there’ she thinks) when she received a text message from Laura.

_“When your stuck at writing your thesis: Move to Wales and become competitive poets. Plan for us? Discuss.”_

   Shaking her head she smiled down at her phone. She thought back to the evening they had first read their own poems and stories to each other. Meeting friends after that had been quite awkward, starring as starry-eyed at each other as they did. Yet it seemed as if her friends weren’t really surprised, most of them had already caught on to their weird connection and just dealt with whatever they threw at them without breaking stride or character. Before she could, however answer Laura’s message, one of her co-workers, not the mysteriously absent Johnson of course, addressed her: “Message from your boyfriend?”

   “Nope. Don’t be so heteronormative.” She shot back, not looking up from her phone.

   “Girlfriend, then.” The co-worker tried again.

   “Still: nope.” Eva lets her know.

   “Sure looks like it, though. You smiling like your face is about to break. Your totally gone, mate, that’s what I’m saying.”

   In that moment another text arrived.

_“*you’re”_

   Eva stared at the message and could feel the grin on her face grow even wider, if at all possible. Finally she couldn’t contain her mirth anymore and burst out laughing, much to her co-workers confusion.

 _“Wicked meta timing_. _”_ She texted back.

_“Always.”_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bro

 

_Meow?_

_Meow._

_Meow. Miau._ _Meooooowww._

_Mau. Mauu. Meow._

_Mau mau meow. Miau._

_Meowwwww._

_Miaaauuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!_

 

  

   “Eva“, Laura said after a while, looking up from her phone. “You know that I’m sitting _right here_ , right? Like two meters away from you. And there is no one in the cafè. Why are you texting me?”

   “Why are you texting back?”

   With a sigh Laura herself fall back on the sofa.

   “Meow?” Eva asked from behind the counter.

   “Meow.” Laura answered reluctantly.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

One cold winter day, the pair’s conversation turned to, how could it not, fanfiction.

   “What if _we_ are fanfiction?” Eva was having one of her existential days and needed someone to bounce ideas off.

   “Shit, mate … don’t give me such reality threatening thoughts so early in the day!” Laura pleaded, her face turned to the backrest of the sofa she was chilling on.

   “It’s four in the afternoon.” Eva informed her.

   “What have I been saying?” came the muffled answer.

   Eva was not having it: “But, Lauraaa … think about it.”

   She turned to the girl sitting at the table next to them, who was scribbling in her notebook. She bore a striking resemblance to Laura, despite her short, jet black hair, which made her blue eyes seem to glow.

   “What do you say, Author?” Eva asked the girl.

   “Oh, I’m just following your lead.” She stated and vanished.

   “You should dye your hair black.” Eva said, turning back Laura.

   “Yes, I _should_!” Laura exclaims finally turning around. “So … on the topic of Fanfiction …”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Laura had only just gotten up when Eva turned to the Author and asked:

   “Why do you narrate from her point of view?”

   The Author looked up from her notebook: “Because I’m her.”

   “No you’re not” Eva motioned to the counter where Laura was standing, getting them more tea. “Her hair is brown, shoulder length and curly. Yours is short and black. She wears colourful clothes and smiles a lot. You wear black and glare at everyone!”

   “She only smiles at you”

   “That … that’s …” Eva was at a loss of words.

   “Don’t worry about that yet. We have a lot that happens, before we come to that kind of issues. The story is far from over.” The Author told her before vanishing into thin air like she always did.

   “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, without a Lockwood to throw you a rapier.” Laura remarked as she puts down their tea cups.

   “The Author was being weird and ambiguous, again. You know, the ushe.”

   Laura sat down, picking up her cup. Before drinking however she asked: “Do you sometimes think we are too meta?”

   “Life is hard when you’re partly fictional and see stories in everything.” Eva answered, still thinking about what the Author had hinted at.

   “Oh, that’s a good line. Can I use that?” Laura was excited. She was working on a collection of short stories and was grateful for every creative input her friend gave her.

   “Sure.” Eva answered, not really thinking about it. She looked at Laura instead. Tried to imagine her with dark hair and all in black, scribbling all day long in her notebook. The notebook! A shiver ran down Eva’s back. It was the same notebook.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Author is back at it again, slamming her head onto the table. “Maaaaaan, this isn’t working! I can’t do this. I need a real dramatic part where something really dramatic happens. You know, the climax of this drama and shit. Like where Eva finds out more about The Author and Laura’s connection and deals with the shit The Author implies and by the way _why_ did I include that? Urg.” She huffs and proceeds to slam her head down.

   A pillow strikes the back of the before mentioned head.

   “Stop whining.” Says The Ginger, who sits on the sofa curled up in a blanket. It’s not even that cold in the room. She is reading a book.

   “Oh, as if you didn’t spend all last week doing just that, when that book didn’t arrive on time!” The Author shoots back, aiming at venomous but being too exhausted to actually pull it off.

   After a little while The Author gets up, walks over to the sofa and lies down next to The Ginger. She shuffles around annoyingly until the Ginger puts down her book with a sigh. The Author lies there, her head in the Gingers lap and contemplates her life’s and the lives of her characters choices. The Ginger gently combs her hair.

   “Wanna watch Catfish? Maybe Nev knows the answer to all life’s questions.” The Ginger offers after a while.

   “Yeah.” The Author replies, a little sleepy. Having someone play with your hair, really _is_ the best thing in the world. It would send an insomniac to sleep with all the chill it’s causing.

   After several episodes of the MTV show The Ginger has an idea: “Do you actually _have_ to finish it?”

   “What?” The Author sometimes can’t quite follow The Ginger’s mind.

   “The story. Do you _have_ to finish it? Didn’t you say at the beginning … _‘Unfinished since 2016’_?”

   “Yeah, but that’s just because that was the thing we agreed on in the beginning.” The Author is still not sure what The Ginger is getting at.

   The Ginger in turn, raises an eyebrow. Now The Author catches on.

   “Oh. Ouh! Oh my God on a tricycle, you are a genius!” she exclaims, tackling The Ginger in a hug.

   After a short while of aggressive cuddling, another pillow connects with The Author’s head.

   “Oi!” She cries out.

   After a staring contest that has no winner _at all,_ *cough* The Author is too proud to admit defeat. *cough* You didn’t hear it from me *cough*, a full blown vicious pillow-fight is being fought in the living room of an imagined cottage in Wales.

   The Ginger loses and while she is trying not to suffocate from laughing under a mountain of pillows (where did all these pillows come from? She is sure they don’t own that many.) The Author sits down comfortable on top of said mountain, coffering said ginger. She opens her notebook and proceeds to finish her story by not finishing it at all. How could she have done it, really, she thinks. It’s not like there _is_ an end to it. The never ending story of Brodom. (And no, only because they are girls it’s not Sisdom, that would be ridiculous.)

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

   They should have seen this coming, probably had, in all their metaness. This whole story lead up to it and so one day, finally, Laura tried to ask:

   “Do you want to – Gosh I don’t know how to do this – “

   She smiled shaking her head, before explaining.

   “I’ve never done this…”

   “Me neither.” Eva answered, encouraging her to go on.

   “Ok … Here goes nothing. Do you, Eva Marie Heimers, want to be my-“

   “Yes.” Eva interrupted her.

   Laura shoved Eva, she shoved her but didn’t put enough force into it, to make it seem like anything but a fond display of affection. “Hey, I haven’t finished my question!”

   “You don’t need to. Piecon, have you forgotten? So, as I said … yes … I do.”

   The two smiled giddily at each other for the longest time until the customer that stood behind Laura in line, who had witnessed the whole conversation, loudly cleared their throat.

   “As cute as that just was, could you little Lovebirds get a room and not hold up business? Some people have lives”

   “Sonder.” Laura and Eva said in unison. They laughed but have long since stopped being surprised by occurrences like this.

   “You’re such weirdos.”

   “Much appreciated.” Laura said then continued to Eva “See you later … _Bro._ ”

   The customer huffed: “I’ve never met a couple that called each other ‘Bro’”

   “Oh, we’re not a couple” Eva clarified grinning and shaking her head muttering something like “all the time … all the time”

   Laura turned to the other customer: “We are _Bros_.”

 

 

Epilogue

They hear someone clapping from the other side of the coffee shop, where the Author, in her usual black attire, is smiling at them. “One person clapping is not an applause but it will have to do. Grand, really grand. Couldn’t have written it any better.” She grins. “So, my work here is done. Be seeing you both. Eva. Laura.” She nods to them both respectively, gets up and walks out of the café, only to look back in a second later, addressing Laura: “Oh, dear. Cut of that hair … it’s not very” She gestures. “ _you_.”

   “ _I’m_ not very _me_ , haven’t you heard?”

   “Sassy … oh, you and I will have so much fun in this world.” She smirks knowingly before exiting and thus ending the narrative.


End file.
